


Tender Heart

by void_null



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-07 17:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15224087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_null/pseuds/void_null
Summary: There was something wrong with Lance Mcclain. The poor guy had a big loving family, was widely popular on and off campus, and had grades that were nothing to sneeze at.  And his job as a waiter at a high-end restaurant certainly earns him more money than the average college student. But the average college student doesn't have a collection of guns in their closet. When the self-proclaimed 'love of his life' is taken by another man, Lance is wallowing in sadness and guilt. Discovering his coworker Keith is in a similar predicament, they find themselves forced into loneliness while all their friends are off living their romantic dreams. Forced to spend more time together, the two discover that maybe sad anime backstories can be the start of a totally normal friendship.http://8tracks.com/zerovoid-null/tender-heart





	Tender Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three normal college students are going to class after they stay up all night to watch soap operas.

 

Yo, Pidge!" Lance shouted from the toilet. "Pass me the toilet paper!"

"No fucktard you forgot to buy it yesterday!" Pidge was busy killing valkyries with reckless abandon. "Use your towel!"

Hunk walked through the doors at that exact moment. "I got the toilet paper!"

"You are a saint Hunk! Can you pass me a roll?" The bathroom was filled with praises and multiple prayers from the throne.

Thankfully, it was Hunk's turn to cook dinner that night.

Monday nights were sacred. Not that Pidge's Pasta Wednesdays weren't delicious or Lance's Taco Tuesdays and Thursdays weren't stunning. It was just that everyone liked Hunk’s food and today, Hunk brought the most beautiful fried rice into existence out of the random leftovers in their fridge.

Everyone cried tears of joy, begging for seconds. "We should just give up and make Hunk our personal chef." Lance was on his third bowl while Pidge tried and failed to savor each bite of this marvelous masterpiece.

"It's just fried rice dude." Hunk flushed at every compliment and tried to regain his composure, quickly eating his rice and leaving the kitchen to watch TV.

"Do you think we teased him too much?" Lance asked filling his bowl again.

"Nah, he'll get over it." Pidge laughed as he began clearing the table. "Leave your bowl. I'll clean before I start my match again."

Lance sat next to Hunk on the couch, "What's this?"

"Some random soap opera. There aren't any new competitions on tonight." Lance rejoiced in this. No one watched cooking shows with Hunk after Gordon Ramsey fiasco.

Lance clicked the remote to see the title. "Over Seven Billion People. The story of a space detective who falls in love with an alien undercover as a barista. Over ten seasons and six hundred episodes."

"We better start watching then," Lance called over Pidge to make some popcorn and managed to convince him that he still had the entire week to play games.

The next 9 hours were the most intense moments the trio had ever lived to witness. Tears were shed, fights broke out, no one was the same.

The first four hours were innocent enough.

**"There are over seven billion people on this world Steve Stark. But I have never met anyone with as bland a coffee order as yours."**

**"Ha, very funny kid. Get me a danish while you're at it."**

**"Aww, you're no fun Paladin." A playful wink.** **_The chemistry between these two is amazing!_ **

**"Stick to making coffee, Adriene. Flirting is not your forte."** **_Ohh, burn!_ **

The next five, however, were much more brutal.

 **"Mike, I'm sorry. You're my partner. I can't see you in any other way."** **_Fuck Adriene! He's no good for you just date Michael!_ **

**"I know you aren't... I just thought I should try." He runs away tears streaming down his cheeks.** **_My sweet baby! How dare you hurt my child!_ **

**"Hey, are you okay?" Levi comforts Mike with a cup of coffee.** **_Oh, I fucking called it!_ **

**"N-No."** **_I ship it now. What should they're ship name be? Mevi? Like?_ **

**"Come on dude, talk to me. It’s okay."**

**"I've liked him since we were at the Garrison. He was always so strong and funny and he always knew how to make me feel better. Even when I found out I was terminal. But I can't exactly go to him now."**

All three of them burst into tears. “M-Mike is terminal?” Pidge squeaks. “He was my favorite character.”

Lance leans on Hunk, staining his shirt with snot and tears while Pidge follows suit. “B-But how will Steve feel? Even if he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings, he still cares a lot about Mike.”

Hunk wraps his arms around both of them, the smell of sugar cookies and popcorn creating a soothing musk around their hearts. “He will probably be heartbroken. At least Levi is there for Mike.” Everyone nods and agrees. They fall asleep like that, too tired to watch the next episode.

* * *

 

Monday night binges are never good. _Never._

“Why the hell did we watch OSBP on a Monday night anyway?” Lance looks absolutely drained. “And how the hell aren’t you two tired?” Pidge was still staring intently at a phone while Hunk was still as cheerful ever.

“What is OSBP?” Pidge takes out an earbud. “We’re in the engineering course. We’re used to random sleepless nights.” They both knew this was a jab at architecture majors.

“Says the one who can’t solve a simple acronym,” Pidge smirked and held out her hand. It was a truce for now. “Can we go get some coffee?”

“Looking for your Adriene?” Lance brushes it off cooly with a ‘that’s gay’ as they pulled Hunk along to Venom and Sugar or VS as Lance lovingly called it.

“One strawberry frappuccino with extra whip and chocolate syrup, a chai tea latte with soy milk cold, and one cold caffe mocha with chocolate syrup as well.” A blonde barista fixed their drinks as they sat at a table.

“How much longer until your next class?” Hunk asked.

Pidge perked up a bit at that, “I have almost three hours. Tuesdays are beautiful. Classes don’t start until three and I only have two!”

“Lucky you then, class starts back for me is in an hour,” Lance groaned trying not to think about the inevitable terrors that plagued him because of his indecisiveness. Art minor, an aeronautical engineering minor, and architecture major. Even if he didn’t get much ‘homework’ the sheer amount of courses he took was weighing on him. All he wanted was to work alongside his sister at the base. And that was enough to make ‘aeronautical drafting’ sound like heaven.

“Why do you cook dinner on Tuesdays anyway?.” Hunk couldn’t help but be worried about Lance. The guy was scarily thin even after all the fried rice.

“Nah it’d be way worse if I had to clean on Tuesdays. I can handle making a taco or two.” Lance’s smile had a way of calming people. And despite it all, Hunk felt a little more at ease seeing it.

Pidge sighs before putting her phone away. She wasn’t getting past that level anytime soon anyway. “I heard Allura has a new mission for us this week-” Pidge was cut off by the sound of their order.

“One strawberry frap for Lance, one chai tea with soy for Hunk, and one mocha for Pidge!” Lance was on his way to pick up the drinks and when he hears a ring.

“Mr. Mullet makes an entrance,” Lance snorts walking towards the counter.

Keith arches an eyebrow. "You finished the Calc homework?" 

"It wasn't _that_ hard."

"It was pretty hard."

"Harder than you on a Tuesday night," Lance smirks and waits for Keith to blush.

Except he doesn't. "But it's Tuesday afternoon."

Lance stared at him. "W-Wait, what?" 

"You aren't supposed to answer a question!" Keith grabbed his wallet and ordered a Strawberry Green Tea. 

"It's not my fault you can't catch a joke!"

"Maybe because the joke wasn't good in the first place!"

"My jokes are amazing. You just don't have a sense of humor."

"Even if I had a sense of humor, _which I do,_  you'd still be the least funny person in Altea!"

"Well, your the least funny person in America!"

"You're the least funny person in the world!"

"Try the universe Mullet Brain!"

"Hey! We'd like our drinks this _quintant_!" Pidge's voice caused both Keith and Lance to snap their necks towards her. At each other. And then the drinks.

They saw the poor blonde woman behind the counter, meekly trying to calm them both down. "Thanks for the drink." Lance gave a warm smile and winked at the waitress.

"Keep the change." Keith handed her a twenty and smiled.

Lance handed her another twenty. "Keep up the good work." They walked away.

* * *

 Lance only let himself remember home when there was nothing else to think about. Because home to him was a sniper rifle in hand, the dirty taste of coffee, jeans with green splotches on the knees, and the sound of the ocean. Other times it was the tall walls and cracked streets. Or maybe even the elderly woman down the street whose children grew up with his mother and her tan cat that could hardly stay awake. 

On his best days, he would end up thinking about random small facets of life. Like a slow steady stream of consciousness, trickling meaningless notions. But on other days, the thoughts and memories inside his head would overwhelm him until it felt like he was sinking inside his own mind. Drowning, gasping for air begging for it all to stop.

That was the only time he allowed himself to remember his father. And soon the details bled from the smell of gunpowder to lush green grass, cool and soft on the hot summer days they would spend hunting in Pinar del Rio. There was something satisfying about watching a trigger snap and hearing only a split second later a wild boar squeal out in pain.

But the birds were by far the most rewarding. Aiming was harder, and there was always a split second where Lance worried the shot would miss and it would fly in fear rather than die.

He wondered if a bird’s blood tasted different from a human’s blood. He wondered if he shot its wing, how long it would take for it to die. What does a bird’s heart feel like?

After a month of birds that refused to cooperate, he finally shot one. He knew it wasn’t dead because of the way it twitched on the ground. He held the quail by the neck. It could have easily pecked his hand but it was still. He took out a pocket knife and cut its wing slowly.

It let out a screeching caw that caused Lance sawed it off in a fit of exasperation. The wings were surprisingly bony. As he sawed away, he could feel the tiny bones inside of the wing break easily, as though they were made of rubbery cartilage.

Lance didn’t feel anything in that moment. Nothing but the urging feeling inside of his mind that he wanted the quail dead. He wanted to see it’s corpse in an array of blood. Like an artist wishing to see the result of his hours spent slaving over a canvas. The blood was his paint, the knife his brush, and he had a euphoric feeling knowing he would soon birth a masterpiece.

His father went quiet before Lance noticed he was crying. The tears just seemed to roll down his like droplets against window panes. He didn't know what to say. His father wrapped him in a hug repeating, “ _Lo siento._ _Dios me ha castigado por mis fechorías. Dios te ha castigado por mis fechorías."_ Lance couldn't breathe.  _"Lo siento."_

Lance didn’t understand what he meant at the time but it hadn’t stopped him from saying “ _Esta bien papa._ ” Lance didn't close his eyes, staring blankly at the sky that was a million shades too bright. 

* * *

 According to Pidge, Lance was a bit of a narcissist. After a minute of googling and an hour of ignoring Pidge, he decided he strongly disagreed. Since when are extreme displays of self-confidence a personality disorder.

That’s why he _confidently_ thought one promising Thursday afternoon that he was the best fucking employee Voltron could and would ever hire, "Would you like to start today's course off with one of our specialty drinks?"

The petite redhead started sputtering and blushing when a man who he assumed was either her brother or her boyfriend answered for her. _“We_ would like One Spring Sangria and one Fiery Falix."

Lance shot a wink,"I like a girl who can hold her liquor." The girl flushed even harder and the man took her hand, practically dragging her to the booth.

Lance's enthusiasm only rose after that.

"Extra cheese? That sounds pretty gouda!"

"My name is Lance, but you can call me the best waiter in the Universe."

"Extra fries? I'll try to ketchup!"

"Hot right? The coffee's pretty warm too."

He earned glares from several people, men, and women alike but when a group of girls walked in, he was rewarded for his efforts in a beautiful surplus of tips from each young maiden. “Nyma was it? How do you like your cocktails?” Nyma giggled.

“She has a boyfriend already,” Florona stated plainly.

Plaxum pouted, staring at the counter. “I still can’t believe you have a job here. I’ve been going here for months now!”

He let out a sardonic smile, brushing combing his fingers through his hair, “What can I say, my natural charm entices people.”

“If only," Swirn stated plainly. "You couldn't land a date if they fell into your arms."

“At least he's nice," Plaxum said. “Kind of reminds me of a little brother or something.”

Lance sighed, “My natural charm, both a blessing and a curse.” Dejected, he walked away, ripping a page from the notepad and handed it to Mr. Mullet behind the bar counter.

“Four Ocean Obsessions."

“Nice to know your harem is still as homosexual as ever,” Keith smirked. There was something magical about watching someone make his specialty drink. Mostly because it was a drink Lance made after one too many shots and a shelf filled with spirits at his disposal. Two shots of amarula, creme de cacao, amaretto, coconut ice cream, and pineapple juice thrown into the shaker with blue dye.

Lance covered his own smile with a pout. “Bisexual actually.”

Keith shrugged, “Not that it matters.” He poured the drink into each glass carefully. Lance watched the trickle of the chocolate blue beverage as Keith placed a slice of pineapple on top with a poorly concealed proud grin. “All of them are either taken or uninterested.”

“You’re one to talk!” Lance snatched a platter, placing the drinks. Keith quirked an eyebrow and Lance continued, unable to hide the smirk that grew on his face. “When's the wedding Mr. Shirogane?”

The dark flush that graced Keith's cheeks stood out horribly next to his pale skin, “Shut up! He’s practically my dad!”

“You're already calling him daddy? I didn't know you were so _promiscuous.”_ Lance winked and Keith’s blush only grew more intense. Lance, of course, had no idea what promiscuous meant but if the word gave him this much of a reaction he'd have to use it more often.

“Just take the damn drinks!” Keith practically shoved the platter towards him and Lance yielded with a half-hearted smile handing over the drinks to the girls before Keith broke a few (more) glasses.

The restaurant was nearly cleared that Thursday night. He noted Pidge tending to a young couple while Hunk fixed their meal in the kitchens. Despite their strange schedules, they all worked Thursday night save for Shiro, Allura, and Coran who had been gifted conventional work hours.

He finally clocked out a few minutes shy of 1:00.

"Lance, may I speak with you for a moment?' Allura asked softly. Almost like she was walking on eggshells, "It's a private matter."

Lance grinned from ear to ear, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas. "Isn’t it a bit soon for us to be using the back room princess?” Allura's glare did nothing to deter him. "I mean, at least let me take you out for dinner first."

Allura sighed, taking a sip of her drink, “I thought it'd be important for everyone at the restaurant to know but..." She ran her fingers through her hair before continuing. "Lotor Locascio’s invited me for dinner yesterday evening.” The way his name slid off of her tongue made him uneasy. 

"Lotor! The son of Zarkon? Heir to Galra Food Inc?" Lance cried.

"Lance." There was more, so much more that he wanted to tell her. He felt the tears well up in his eyes and quickly blinked them away, his face was blank but it felt like his heart was being twisted in two. Allura's voice creaked as she tried to keep her motherly soft tone. A warm thin hand holding onto his shoulder. "He's wonderful, Lance. He's everything I've ever wanted in a man." When she continued, Lance knew it worked. She didn't know how much it hurt. "Everything about him is beautiful. And I know that you don't approve of him but, I'm sure one day, you two will be great friends." 

"Allura," Lance tried to choose his words carefully, but in the end, he said something off of Hallmark card. "Does he make you happy?"

"More than anything Lance." Her smile was bright. He looked into her eyes and for some reason, he was reminded of that summer sky. Of the last time, he went hunting with his father. Her eyes, her smile, they were always a million shades too bright.


End file.
